Ryosuke and I…

Hibiki got another hole-in-one. Makoto stomped on the evenly cut grass and swung his putter in the air angrily like a sword. Hibiki ducked low to the ground.

"You got another one, Hibiki!" Makoto cried. Hibiki wiped the sweat off his brow.

"Great, it's my volley this round too." He said.

"Damn, how'd I end up with a double bogey?" Makoto whined.

He set the golf ball on the ground and got in his stance to take a shot. The hole was only five yards away. "If I lose another round, they'll have to put Death by: Hibiki-demon-hands on my will!"

"If you want to win," Hibiki said, scraping dirt out from under his finger nails, "Stop going easy on me before the hazards—!"

"Quiet! Quiet!" Makoto shook his hand in the air, "My hearts always going on full swing!"

He was focused, like a dog patiently waiting for food. Makoto smiled.

"Yes, I've got my plan!"

There was a loud thumping closing in on the two boys. Hibiki and Makoto both turned around, seeing Ryosuke dribble a basketball on the grass. He paused and held the ball in his hand.

"Jeeze! You're like a pair of old men!" Ryosuke shouted, his brows furrowed. "Why don't you play basketball? Basketball! The number one court is miraculously empty—!"

"I'll use this angle to get the ball in!" Makoto interrupted.

Ryosuke, seeing that Makoto wasn't even paying attention to him, grew angry. He clenched the ball in between his hands and walked backwards, taking small steps.

"Here I go!" Makoto was about to take his hit, but the basketball that Ryosuke was holding was thrown at the back of his head.

"Whoa!"

Hibiki ducked down again, covering his head. He stared at Makoto with wide eyes, mouth agape. Makoto turned around with fire in his eyes, only to have his backpack thrown in his face.

Not a thing has changed between me and Ryosuke…

"Yo!" Ryosuke cheered with a smug look on his face, "Idiot pair! Did the basketball kill you? Are you bleeding all over this perfect lawn yet?"

"You bastard!" Makoto screamed, "That hurt you idiot! You're going down, you hear me!? Whether it's golf or basketball or whatever, it's a match!"

The ball rolled back over to Ryosuke. He picked it up and started spinning it on his middle finger, intentionally flipping Makoto off.

"Excellent," Ryosuke smiled, still smug, "Since your hollow head is your only defense, I'll be able to mutilate you beyond recognition." Makoto grew hot with anger all over again. He broke off into a run after Ryosuke.

"Don't use big words I don't understand!"

"Ah! Save me, Hibiki!" Ryosuke laughed as he headed for the basketball court.

With one last sigh, Hibiki gathered his golf clubs and trudged out of the golfing area and to the basketball court. The three of them played against each other, dribbling the ball and shooting free throws until the sun started to set.

"Hey, guys!" Hibiki called from the distance. "I gotta go home now!" he started to walk off, waving his goodbye. Ryosuke and Makoto looked up from the one on one game they were having and smiled.

"Okay!" they both said in unison. They continued to play.

Since Ryosuke is acting very casual… I'll be even more casual, behaving like usual. Ryosuke is normal and I am normal. Everything was just the way it was. Just as if nothing ever happened…

Ryosuke lost the game, and to his surprise, the bet that went along with it. Makoto bet that if Ryosuke lost, he would give him a ride home on the back of his bike. Makoto was whistling happily as Ryosuke struggled to pedal up the steep hill. He gritted his teeth and clutched the handle bars.

"Damn, you're heavy…!" he mumbled through his teeth. "This is what you get for eating nothing but that fatty tuna…!" He forced himself to put in more staggering effort. Makoto stuck out his tongue.

"Can't help it, since you lost." He said, rolling the dirt between his fingers. He flicked it away and turned his head. "And it's not fatty tuna! I only get the fancy kind. Fancy! Fancy tuna, say it with me! Fan-see!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" Ryosuke breathed. Finally, they were riding on a level street. After a few moments, Makoto broke the silence.

"Hey, Ryosuke?"

"Yeah?"

"You're pretty popular in school, so why don't you have a girlfriend?"

Although the question was a bit random, Ryosuke thought hard about how to answer his question. He laughed at his immediate thought.

"Because each and every one of them is ugly and stupid." He smirked. Makoto faced the back of Ryosuke's head, his black hair flowing in the gentle breeze.

"What?" he laughed, "Isn't that Watanabe girl cute?"

"Oh, right!" Ryosuke said, remembering her from his class. "Yeah, I see her every once and a while… she is cute, isn't she? But super scary when she's angry." Ryosuke tried to let the silence take place again, but he felt he had more to say. "But I'm… happy with the way things are! Without all the romance stuff. But the next time there is a match, you'll get your ass handed to you!"

Makoto smirked, leaning his head on Ryosuke's back.

"If you say so…"

Yes. As if absolutely nothing happened.

The rain took the atmosphere down to the level where you get tired just by looking at the gray skies and puddle on the street. Makoto had been asleep since ten o'clock the night before and it was almost eleven thirty the next day. He walked out of his bedroom and trotted down stairs into the kitchen. Kaito was in his office, next to the living room, the floor littered with crumpled notebook paper. He had a solemn look on his face as he stared at the almost screen in front of him.

Makoto looked in the oven and found that Kaito had made him breakfast a while ago. Biscuits, eggs and bacon kept warm by the oven. He removed the plate and searched for a fork. It was so quiet, you could hear the silent impact of his father typing.

"Hey, Dad?" Makoto asked, picking at his scrambled eggs.

"Hm?" he answered, not putting much of an effort into it. He didn't take his eyes of the screen.

"What's it like when you're writing?"

Kaito opened his eyes a little more, a surprised expression on his face.

"Mm? Like?" he questioned.

"Don't you do it… daily?" Makoto turned to look out the window, feeling his face grow hot with embarrassment. He set the breakfast plate down on the counter. "It's not like I don't get to spend time with you… but it goes without saying that you're always doing it. But what if one day, you weren't able to write anymore? How would you deal with it?"

Kaito didn't have a thought in his mind.

"…Writing?" he asked, as if he wanted to make sure. Makoto nodded, feeling his sweaty palms.

"W-Writing!" Makoto's voice cracked.

"Um, that's a good question!" Kaito cheered. "Makoto, that a look at this!"

Kaito looked around the office until he found the paper framed on the wall. He grabbed it off the hook and jogged into the kitchen. Makoto raised an eyebrow as he read to himself:

Look into the window.

It was a mourning mirage until the day the glass shattered.

Then a hundred different pieces created a distorted picture that made more sense than none.

The shards killed the face that I remembered.

The reflection was ugly, a lost identity.

Swimming with sharks, of course you'll get bit.

The deeper and darker waters were always more dangerous.

But that's the way you liked it.

Anchored to your own opinion, sinking.

"Did you write that?" Makoto pointed to the paper in the frame. Kaito shrugged.

"You're mother once wrote it on a napkin and threw it away," he said, "I stole it out of the trash and kept it from her since." He pointed to the bottom left corner of the frame.

-Mayori Takabayashi

"What did she mean by this?" Makoto asked, "I don't really understand…"

"Well there's not much to it," Kaito got closer to the frame then finally set it down on the counter. "In this society of uncertainty, no two viewpoints will never be the same. Your mother knew that what seems beautiful to the other person might be painful for the other. I expect this to be known for many more generations…"

Makoto stood in his thinking stance, thumb under his chin and brows knitted together.

"But that's not the only distinction." He pointed out. "One's own view point depends on their state of heart. If that changes, the 'one truth' differs accordingly."

"You're right about that…" Kaito agreed. He noticed the confused look that Makoto carried.

"…The 'one truth'…?"

Kaito patted his son's shoulder.

"You have to feel it for yourself. Sometimes even if you search your heart, you may not find the answer you're seeking. Ultimately, 'one's truth' may blind one's heart. Then you start to question yourself, see?" Kaito took the frame and placed it above the sink in the window. "So! Your mother had a way of putting it!"

"I get it now…" Makoto said.

Ryosuke…

"Wait, how does this relate to my question about your writing?" he asked, arms folded, "How was my topic derailed?"

Kaito, growing anxious, started involuntarily scratching the back of his head. The muscles of his lips twitched then formed into a smile.

"Mn!? Ah! W…Writing! I don't consider myself an expert on language arts!" Kaito laughed. "Really, I'm still such an amateur."

"No, you're just too self-conscious." said Makoto. He grabbed his breakfast plate and ran up to his room. "Thanks, by the way!"

He closed the door to his room, quickly falling asleep after he finished his late breakfast.